Harry Potter  Parselmouth
by MarkerIV
Summary: What if Harry's abuse had been a bit more... pronounced and blatantly evident. Warning: Dark Dursleys and Dark Harry. HP/HG & HP/GW.
1. Vernon Dursley

Harry Potter, Parselmouth I am not JKW and do not own anything other than the... wait I don't own jack... crap.  
>What if Harry's abuse had been a bit more... pronounced and evident. Warning: Dark Dursleys and Dark Harry. HPHG & HP/GW.

I present a plot bunny that refused to leave my brain alone.

Vernon Dursley was a narcissistic creature of habit. Every morning he would sample his wife's latest offering of bacon and eggs before heading off to work at Grunnings, a local manufacturing plant where he was the chief supervisor. Naturally this meant he spent a lot of time doing nothing more than berating others for incompetence, an activity he thoroughly enjoyed. After a short day's work of five hours or so he would head on home for another fine repast before sitting down to read the paper while his wife fretted over Dudders and watched the Telly. The entire family settled down to bed around 9pm and this pattern almost never changed.

Changes to Vernon's daily routine were not appreciated, and by not appreciated I mean that Vernon had a distinct hatred for anything that would interfere with his carefully laid out life. One of the few changes which he would consider positive was occurring today! Namely his annual review which was largely ceremonial as it was comprised of him taking his boss out golfing for the entire day followed by a 5% raise for good work and a few thousand pound bonus for keeping the bottom line under control.

After his morning repast he hurried out the door while toting his clubs only to trip over an obstruction and fall flat on his face. With slacks torn at the knees and hands cut up Vernon regained his feet and looked back at the bundle as it loudly made it's displeasure known. A small basket tipped over on it's side which clearly contained a crying newborn. If there was anything that Vernon Dursley hated more than changes to his routine it was newborns. When his son Duddly had been born he had shipped his wife and the baby off to her mothers for three years just to avoid the unrelenting wailing. Babies did nothing but cry, eat, stink and poop and some infernal person had the gall to go and leave one on his doorstep. Well he would show that idiot that he was not one for charity.  
>After closing the door and picking up the bundle and basket he walked to the sidewalk where he not so gently dropped it right beside the rubbish bins. He then grabbed his clubs and after throwing them in the boot raced off to work. Damn brat had made him late.<p>

It was a very disgruntled Dursley that returned home late that night. His boss had apparently had the indecency to have a heart attack the night prior and Vernon's review had fallen his boss' boss, who was incidentally not amused when Vernon showed up for his review late, disheveled with torn pants and packing golf clubs. This annoying overseer and pencil pusher had demanded reports and upon finding them unavailable had done a full audit of the entire manufacturing plant.

This of course uncovered all of the complaints that had been received by the company that his boss usually swept under the rug for his golfing partner. The pencil pusher was not so kind. After uncovering the tenth incident of verbal abuse reported by an employee he had the entire plant shut down for a meeting where he proceeded to let anyone with a grudge against Vernon take the floor and make less than flattering comments about his person. In fact it was only due to Vernon's unending capacity to keep the bottom line under control, mainly by firing employees who got too high on the pay scale, that he managed to keep his job. If that was not bad enough the pencil pusher had given the entire company a method to bypass his office for complaints and informed him that his annual review would be conducted in the same manner next year. It goes without saying that Vernon did not get his raise or annual bonus check.

When he came home and found the baby absent from it's place near the rubbish bin he was inwardly pleased. Although a thoroughly rotten day at least his woes were not compounded by having to put up with a newborn. When he entered his home and heard a loud wail a straw fell and his proverbial weak back was broken. When he greeted his wife that evening it was with a loud complaint, Petunia gave as good as she got verbally, brandishing a letter and warning of dire interactions with freaks like her sister and the only by the frequent wailing. When he lost the argument over the baby staying he reacted in anger and told Petunia once. When she looked back at him with her fresh black eye and a glare he responded by telling her twice.  
>The baby was staying, but Vernon Dudley did not have to like it.<p>

Wailing... Wailing... Incessant and annoying wailing. It had been two months since it had moved in and Vernon had not had a moments peace since. It was a more than slightly frazzled man that made his way into Grunnings that day and after working a long six hour day he decided to call it quits and head for the golf course for some much needed relaxation. Choosing to gather a random partner from the clubhouse he soon tee'd off with a respectable gentleman, a doctor, specializing in abortions.  
>After about twelve holes and much complaining about the noise level of his unwelcome guest Vernon made a comment that would change the lives of many.<br>"I wish he had just been born mute."  
>The doctor looked at him briefly before turning away and muttering quietly,<br>"That could be arranged... for a price."  
>Vernon's response was a whisper that changed the world.<br>"Lets talk further, I am sure we could come to an arrangement."


	2. Dog

Harry Potter, Parselmouth I am not JKW and do not own anything other than the... wait I don't own jack... crap.

Authors Note: This is the end of the prologue. After this the real story begins and the chapters should be longer.

July 24th, 1991, 8 pm...

For the last eleven or so years Vernon's schedule had returned mostly to the pristine quiet that he so favored. Other than the infrequent noise of the cupboard under the stairs being opened for the removal of Dog's chamber pot or his daily food and water bowl and the addition of a few new books every few months to keep the beast quiet, his life had more or less returned to normal.  
>His regular boss had resumed work and his bonuses had started flowing again three years after that swamp of a year where they had obtained Dog. From there on out things had been smooth sailing at least once he had made that wonderful agreement with that doctor. Of course there were a few difficulties. The boy had taken up that habit of hissing to try to communicate and that had been quickly beaten out of him. Of course the punishment of removing his solitary light bulb for a week so that he had no entertainment what so ever also helped remove his desire to interact.<br>All told he had managed to keep the Dog's presence from interfering with his family's life at all. In fact Dog was so rarely out of his cupboard that the neighbors did not even know he existed. The only odd proof of his existence underneath the stairs was the overpowering smell of lilacs used to cover the smell along with the occasionally unexplainable occurrence.  
>This was why he was so utterly surprised this morning to find a small golden envelope on the floor just inside the mail drop addressed to one Harry James Potter. Outside of that one night 11 years ago the name had never been mentioned within his house. Indeed the Dog did not even know of it, he had forbidden Petunia to even mention it after that fateful night where he had been forced into accepting the Dog's presence in his life.<p>

-  
>July 29th, 1991, 10 am.<p>

The solution seemed easy at first, like many of his problems. Just toss the offending letter in the trash Petunia said, so he did thinking that would be the end of it. The next day however there was another. The day after that there were three and after that six, then twelve, twenty four. Boarding up the mail slit in frustration that night did nothing to resolve the issue. That very next morning forty eight (he actually took the time to count) letters were strewn about his living room having come in through the chimney. Things were quite clearly getting out of control. With no way to stop the letters there was only one logical solution. "Petunia, I do believe that we will be taking some of that unused vacation time I have. Pack a bag with clothes for a week or two. Get Dudley ready as well. I am going to feed and water the dog before we go."

July 30th, 1991

The next day 100 letters stormed down the chimney and deposited themselves just outside the cupboard. No one saw, no one noticed. Aside from the odd noise coming from the cupboard the house was quiet and still.

Inside the cupboard a scrawny naked and malnourished young eleven year old boy laid. His mattress was without sheets and smelly, only a small blanket for warmth. His chamber pot sat next to the hatch along with his rations of food and water. Around his neck latched a collar that was chained to the underside of the stairs, and on its tag the word DOG in all bold letters. A mere five and a half feet by four feet was his entire world having little to no memory of anything else beyond the few glimpses of exterior walls when his hatch was opened. Time, meaning days, nights, hours, minutes and seconds held no meaning to this child. For him there was merely the present which was never changing.  
>With his small fingers he routinely traced every inch of his tiny abode, counting the ridges and variations in the wood as well as the places where two boards joined. At the foot of his bed sat his small pile of treasures. Namely books, it had been quite difficult learning to read but his Master's wife had spent many hours reading to and teaching him while sitting outside of his alcove when the Master and Dudley were out of the house. Why she spent so much time with Dog when they were alone and so little when others were around was beyond his comprehension. But when he thought of her, which was frequently as there was not much else to do, he treasured their time.<br>It had taken him years to fully learn his place as the family's dog. He wasn't to make noises or draw any attention to his room and was most certainly not to make any noises toward someone as if trying to communicate if anyone other than the wife was around.  
>Not that the boy would have had any way of knowing but as he reached for one of his favorite books, namely The Hobbit, that a large man was dismounting a funny looking motorcycle outside. In the next few minutes his life, like that of his favorite character Bilbo Baggins would be irrevocably changed.<p> 


	3. Diagon Alley

Once again, I am not JKR and don't own anything.

Feed my muse monster, leave a review! They are much loved and a big thank you to everyone who has reviewed.

Also I am looking for a beta for this story, preferably one more skilled with British slang. It has made it off of the one-shot table and firmly onto my lap. If you would like to apply send me a message, please only apply if you have some written work that I can read.

Also check my twitter page (MarkerIV) for updates as I go!

To the blind the particular sound of a person's footsteps can be used to identify an identity. Young Harry, having no eyes outside of his cupboard relied on such sounds to ascertain not just the whom, but emotional states as well. Were his masters happy? Was he about to be fed? Who was heading towards his door? Was there a cause for excitement? All these he could tell from just the sounds reverberating through the floorboards.

The footsteps that currently echoed into his chamber were heavy, much heavier than the Master's. A stranger who had a habit of shuffling his feet slowly. Why was this person here? Feeling frightened he scrunched himself tighter into the cleft in between the sloping stairs and the floor and pulled his small blanket tighter to himself. The noisy giant had rumbled up and down the stairs above him and now into the back of the house.

Sneaking along with breaking and entering, Hagrid decided absently, we most definitely not among the attributes he could count as strengths. He had confirmed with Headmaster Albus Dumbledore that Harry was indeed still at Number 4 Privet Drive in Little Whinging. However not only had none of the letters reached him, his attempt to find him within the abode so far had failed. Pulling out the wrinkled invite from one of the many bulging pockets on his person he checked the address again.

He blinked a few times while reading trying to mesh the words into his understanding of muggle living. Who after all would live in a cupboard under the stairs? Was it some muggle code for a basement? He had searched but could find no entry into a lower level that might suffice for someone of even normal size. After much heavy breathing and internal debate over the subject Hagrid threw out any further measures of stealth. Besides he was annoyed by the overpowering scent of lilac perfume and it was giving him a headache.

"Harry? Umm you here Harry?" Hagrid's rather booming voice garnered no response outside of a scratching noise.

"Not supposed to do this really... " Hagrid mumbled to himself as he retrieved his umbrella.

"Accio Harry Potter." Hagrid could feel his wand's broken pieces embedded within the umbrella strain and a muffled thump come from a small hatch near the stairs. He closed the distance and upon closer inspection saw a sturdy lock securing the little hatch. With a bit of trepidation he cast a spell that would change his outlook on life and on muggles forever.

"Alohomora." The soft click of the lock spurned more noise from within the tiny crawlspace that only increased in volume as Hagrid removed the lock from it's hook and slowly opened the hatch.

"Good god." Right in front of Hagrid was a chamber pot full of filth, beside it a bowl of water and another of small dog biscuits. Beyond them, crouched as far back as possible was a tiny boy with unseeing eyes opened as wide as they could go, he was chained to the door with a short leash and a thick leather collar. Hagrid tried coaxing, pleading and finally ended up reaching in and grabbing the boy before snapping the chain and hauling him out of that damn cupboard and getting bit in the process. He was surprised by the amount of fight the kid had put up trying to stay in the bloody cupboard. He ended up closing the ruddy door and plopping the kid down on the floor with a commanding and loud tone.

"Now sit still and let me look at ye."

The painfully small boy was naked and underfed. Even in the low light Hagrid could see the outlines of scars that littered the boy's pale white skin, dirt or something clung to him. While sitting still the boy continued to tremble and the look of his eyes spoke of pure terror. It was hardly surprising that a small puddle had begun to form.

"There is no need to be afraid of me lad." The gentle giant began. "I am going to be taking you out to..." Hagrid abandoned his explanation as the boy once more freaked out and began scrambling to get past him and into the cupboard. After a struggle in which Hagrid was bit twice more he let go and reached for his umbrella in frustration.

"Dang-it Harry, Stupefy!"

After safely locking the kid out of the cupboard and transfiguring the lock to a solid lump of metal Hagrid resumed his inspection of the boy. Harry was covered in filth. It was clear he had not had a bath in who knows how long. A quick scourgify left the boy at least marginally clean. After a minute or two of gawking Hagrid could only cry a few tears as he categorized the child's abuse. His legs appeared shrivelled, ribs clearly showing, scars everywhere, hands appeared misshapen and his face looked like someone had taken a bludger to him, repeatedly. Some of the bones which were clearly visible appeared to have odd angles to them.

Gone were his plans of taking the boy out to Diagon Alley to get his wand, robes and a pet. Instead there was only one place Hagrid in good conscience could take him, Saint Mungo's Hospital. After taking off his coat and swaddling the boy in it he set him inside of his sidecar before turning back toward the house. His face lit up with fury and anger as he pointed his umbrella again, this time toward the telly and growled his curse.

"Incendio."

As he climbed on Sirius' flying bike and took off with his passenger he looked down at the house in flames below. As he flew onwards to his destination, St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, his face maintained its angry scowl, the wind was the only audience for his closing thought on the matter.

"Filthy muggles."

It had been days since Hagrid caused a storm by barreling his flying motorcycle through a condemned muggle department store window. Purge and Dowse, Ltd, read the sign over the building but housed within lay St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Since that time a team of medi-witches and healers had worked around the clock on their newest patient.

Hearts broke nationally as wizards were made aware of the situation via a lucky Daily Prophet reporter lunching with a Wizarding Wireless Network host after they met a bawling and angry half giant in the canteena. News went out over the wireless almost immediately and the Daily Prophet put out a special edition mid-day paper. "Boy-Who-Lived Hospitalized After Rescue by Half Giant!"

Vial after vial of restorative draughts went down his throat, the bones in much of his body were banished and regrown, drink after drink of vitapots (vitamins!) to combat the years of malnutrition, spell after spell cast to diagnose and repair and there was still more to do. Mind healers had been brought in after his waking revealed a uncontrollable paranoia of open spaces, too much light, and too many people. Everyone involved was very disturbed when the mind healers discovered that he was mute and scarring near his larynx indicated it was due to a muggle operation. That particular issue had taken many hours correct, however even after the physical damage was restored the boy still could or would not speak. The scarring on his chest and throat had been minimal and there was no way of knowing how long he had been that way.

Learning to walk had taken what seemed like forever even with the aid of muscle building and memory enhancing draughts. It had been confirmed that he could understand others speaking and would accommodate requests without fuss but he seemed to show no desire or initiative to communicate even about basic needs and was content to merely sit and stare off into space. The last week had been spent training him to respond to his name and attempting to get him to initiate communication.

On August thirty first, after a long month, a quiet and timid young Harry was finally released to the care of Hagrid for a shopping trip.

"Diagon Alley" announced Hagrid grandly as he poked the brick wall with his umbrella in a seemingly random pattern. The bricks peeled away revealing the way ahead and he looked back at his charge expecting to see a look of awe and wonder. Harry was apparently still looking at his shoes and had missed the display of what little magic Hagrid was able to do.

The lad was clearly still feeling oversocialized after the small mobbing that had occurred in the leaky cauldron. After last month's publicity, the public had been focused on young Harry even more than it had been previously in the past decade. There were no questions of where their here had been for the past ten years, everyone knew. Needless to say, being left alone was not something that was going to happen.

"Very well then, lets get to it." Hagrid muttered. "Come along." They made a slow pace through the market and on to Gringotts. Entering the building's marbled main hall gathered no reaction from him, however nearly running into his first non-human was an eye opening experience that left Harry more than a little off balance and caused him to look up and around a bit. It was with very wide eyes that he followed the moves of Hagrid and this short stranger with pointy teeth.

"Key?" Inquired the goblin, his teeth glinting brightly amidst his sneer.

"Ahh yes, now where did I put it..." After a few moments of bumbling the key was provided and Hagrid led Harry through a door to a cart. After the crazy ride came to a stop a shaky Harry complied with Hagrid's orders and gathered a pile of galleons into a provided bag before scurrying out of the vault with hardly a further glance. One additional stop, where only Hagrid got out of the vehicle briefly did not even garner a look from the boy and after completing his additional task for Dumbledore, Hagrid and Harry left Gringotts a fair amount richer.

Robes, Hat, Gloves, cauldron, books and wand all failed to garner any reaction from the sullen and silent boy who tailed shortly behind Hagrid. He was compliant and obeyed orders without question but seemed to have no initiative and he didn't even look up at the racing broom in the window as they past the Nimbus store. At his wits end and desperate to see even a little smile, Hagrid pulled the boy into the pet store.

Magical Menagerie, a place of clamorous sounds and endless chattering filled with cages lining the walls and a bustle of people poking and prodding at the creatures entrapped within.

"Go and find somethin ya like..." was Hagrid's only command before pushing young Harry into the throng. Bereft of any deeper instruction Harry began wandering the shop looking at the unhappy animals who seemed to all be begging with their eyes to get out of here. It was quite an experience seeing the world from the other side of the cage and it left him feeling empty. This new world was just like his old one it seemed. He continued his wandering until he reached the back and an area that was vacant of visitors, indeed most seemed to shy away. An odd quiet seemed to radiate from a dark cold alcove of the shop and once entered Harry felt unnaturally drawn to a soft stuttering voice at the very edges of his hearing.

"No ho-pe.. al-one... caged and free-zing to dea-th... I w-ill nev-er "

The cages here were dark and the forms within were quiet and unmoving. Careful examination revealed why, the animals here were dead. All except for one it seemed, it took a while and Harry had to move aside a few cages but he finally found the source of the sound and brought it into the light. The shiny black form was coiled tightly and still but clearly not dead and most confusingly continuing to talk.

"Fou-nd? I mu-st be dea-d... Iz thi-s the drea-m?" The snake continued to ramble for several moments concerning the reality of the situation before it blinked a few times, looked directly at Harry and began to shiver with hope. "Pl-ease, get me out of here." A single nod was Harry's only response before opening the cage and providing his hand to crawl out into. With great effort the snake slowly moved onto his hand and and cried out in rapture at the warmth provided by the body heat of his newest friend. Soon the snake had traveled up Harry's sleeve and had coiled itself around his arm and shoulder. After a few minutes the snake's head peeked out of the robes neckline before licking Harry's neck. "Your warmth is heavenly! I have been cold for so long. Thank you!" The snake waited patiently for a while content to relax and soak up the provided heat before realizing that they had not moved. "Let's get out of here." A short nod later, he and Harry were off.

Returning to Hagrid spawned an interesting experience, the sales lady at the checkout was adamant that the animal was a part of a mis-shipment that had been mistakenly delivered to the Magical Menagerie and that an Inland Taipan was not appropriate for a first year's pet. Hagrid may well have gone along with forcing Harry to return it until the proprietress let slip that the animal was going to be put down. At that point the icy glare of the two patrons with the added incentive of the hissing snake emerging from within the child's robes managed to give the sales lady a stutter and prompt her to allow them to pass quietly out the door.

As Hagrid and Harry continued to the Leaky Cauldron to leave Diagon Alley Hagrid attempted to prod Harry into conversation again. "So Harry, whatchyer gonna name im? She's a good snake, will need a proper name." It was several awkward seconds but eventually Harry broke his silence for the first time with not a word but a sound.

"Hiss..."*

OMAKE

"Diagon Alley" announced Hagrid grandly as he poked the brick wall with his umbrella in a seemingly random pattern. "You will never find a more busy hive of wizards and witches." He paused a moment to point down to a seedy looking alley off of the main path. "That down there is Knockturn Alley, a wretched hive of scum and villainy. You must be cautious never to confuse the two."

At this young Harry's eyes got wide and he rapidly looked around in all directions.

"Don't worry lad. I've just always wanted to say that ever since that muggle movie came out in 77."

For those curious as to a picture of Harry's new friend see this link, it is the black one at the top. I do know most inland taipan are brown, but I loved the picture of the black one... Forgive my artistic license and bending of reality. Besides... its a MAGICAL Inland Taipan...

http:/vinu154(dot)weebly(dot)com/the-inland-taipan(dot)html

* Re-posted with this note due to confusion: Harry does not say "Hiss", his hisses.


End file.
